Without a Man to Serve
by Ezra Scarlet
Summary: Percival finds Merlin at the edge of the Lake of Avalon after Arthur's death. Merlin mourns for Arthur, and Percival mourns for his friend.


Percival follows the tracks of his King and friend, eyes scanning the dented earth, a story only those trained to do so could ever hope to read.

He notices that one set of boots suddenly becomes heavier and shifted, as if they were walking backwards, marking the ground more prominently. Alongside it was a long scuff mark stretching out back, as if one person were dragged by the other.

He tries not to think about the implications.

The tracks lead to an enormous lake, daylight rippling across the water and refracting the light, casting rainbows across the surface. A tall tower stands dominant in the middle of the lake, proud and strong.

Standing next to the lake, back turned away from him, is Merlin.

Without even asking, Percival knows. He knows by the loose hands at the sides of his shaking friend, and the tense shoulders of one too old and wise for his own good. A boat cuts across the lake, alight with dancing flames. No questions are needed to explain to him what it is.

For how could he ever mistake the burial of his brother, his captain, his King. Percival stares, heartbroken at the sight. Tears build up in his eyes, threatening to spill over.

 _No man is worth your tears._

Something Arthur had told him when he was still only in his infancy of his knighthood. But surely, _surely,_ Arthur was the exception? Arthur, someone who he would have willingly fought to the death for.

Surely?

But Percival lets not a tear fall from his eyes, a silent salute to the dead.

Blinking away any dregs still in his eyes, he trudged over to Merlin, his mind in a haze. Merlin either did not hear him, or chose to ignore him. Finally coming to stand alongside his friend, he turned to stare at his face.

Blue eyes chose not to acknowledge him, instead choosing to eye the lone boat as it sailed across the expanse of the lake. But alongside that, there's a look. And not just a look or sadness and loss and grief (though certainly that), but something else, something missing, something that used to always be there, and was only noticed now that it was gone.

Upon looking closer, Percival finally identifies the emotion. It's a look of being completely lost.

It was like his home had been ripped out from underneath him.

"Merlin." he said, trying to gain the manservants (no, not a manservant anymore, because Arthur was _deaddeaddeaddead-)_ attention. Like a dam being broken, tears ran down his friends face at the sound of his name, but still Merlin refused to look at him. God's, if Gwaine were here, he would've known what to do.

The thought draws him up short, and he forces back the lump that has now arisen once more in his throat. He tries not to think about it. Not about the screams that had echoed throughout Gwaine's throat or the vein that had bulged in his forehead as he tried to warn him of Morgana's pursuit of the King. He tries not to think of Gwaine's last words of failure as he drew his final breaths.

No, best not to think about it.

"Merlin," he says again, this time his voice nothing put a whisper and his hands coming up in a placating manner, "Please."

"Look at me."

A small pause, and he wondered if he'd been heard. Finally though, Merlin turned slowly towards him. Percival almost wished he had not. Because such raw anguish was reflected in those watery blue eyes. Eyes that, once upon a time, could freeze like ice or burn like a flame in an instant.

Now, all they did was weep.

Merlin fell to his knees, Percival starting forward to catch him, but stopping halfway there as a raw cry of pain ripped forth from Merlin's throat. Slightly shaken at the sound, Percival came to put one strong arm onto Merlin's shoulder, clasping it firmly in comfort.

"It's gonna be okay Merlin. You'll be alright. Don't worry, it's okay." Percival knew not why he bothered, for he knew they were untrue, as surely did Merlin.

Beneath his hand, Merlin continues to shake.

"No, no, no, oh Gods no." Merlin whimpered out, eyes searching across the expanse of the lake with an almost mad gleam in his eye. "Please take me with him. _Please."_ Percival was unsure who Merlin was talking to, be it the lake or the God's above. Upon receiving no kind of reply though, Merlin's face crumpled.

It was strange, Percival thought disconnectedly. But he always thought, at the back of his mind where such thoughts were not to be entertained, that Arthur and Merlin would depart from this world together. Because that was it, wasn't it? It was never _just_ Arthur, never _just_ Merlin, but always Arthur and Merlin.

Never did he think it would be _just_ Merlin. And clearly, Merlin had thought the same.

So now, watching his friend slowly break apart in front of him, Percival threw caution to the wind and let a few lonely tears escape from his eyes, cutting the dirt that layered his skin like a knife through flesh.

He cried not for Arthur, because Arthur had told him never to. And now, it seemed as if the act would almost dishonour him in some way.

So no, it was not for his King that he let these tears fall. These tears were for Merlin. Merlin, whose throat was now rubbed roar from screaming, and eyes red from salt. Whose fingers held blood caked under the nails and chest heaved with every gasping breath.

For Merlin he cried, the manservant, now without a single man whom which he could serve.

0o0

" _If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger."_

― _Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights_

0o0

A/N Hope you enjoyed it, please be sure to leave a review!


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